


The most supportive pretend boyfriend

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Also you will have to rip them in TRACKS from my cold dead hands, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, There Is Only One Bed, Undercover Missions, and other classic tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 15:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: When Mack asks her and Fitz to go undercover as a couple, Daisy can not tell him why she doesn't want to go without giving away her feelings.Fitz doesn't make it easy, or maybe he makes it too easy.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	The most supportive pretend boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TomatoBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomatoBookworm/gifts).



> Written for the Anniversary of EvS Exchange; hope you enjoy this, Tomato!

Daisy barges in Mack’s office- it’s still weird to call it Mack’s instead of Coulson’s, but she is getting there- with an urgency better suited for something more important.

Mack doesn’t even bother raising his head from the file he is reading.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready, Daisy? The Zephyr leaves in two hours.”

“I can’t do it.”

That grabs Mack’s attention and he looks at her with a serious expression. “Why not? It is a simple mission, if tedious. Just gathering intel, maybe playing friendly with the couple to see if you can place a bug or another monitoring device inside their house or their electronics.”

Daisy shakes her head. That’s not what she meant. “You must send me with someone else, Mack.”

Mack’s frown deepens and Daisy had been his partner long enough to know that it is not a good sign. “Why? Fitz can come up with gadgets on the spot and you can protect him. Besides, you both are our more competent agents when it comes to communications.” 

He makes a pause and all Daisy can come up with is a lame, “But why do we need to pretend to be a couple?”

“Couples raise less attention, you know that, D, and less attention also means people will let you get away with a lot more.” He waits for her to explain her case, but she can not say more without giving herself away and only tightens her fists at the sides of her body. “I was told you had done a similar mission together before, pretending to be a couple while running the coms of the mission. Has something changed ever since, Agent Johnson?”

Now she knows that he is onto her because he doesn’t call her Agent Johnson unless she is way out of line or he wants to pull her leg, and this is definitely an example of the latest.

“... no, it has not.”

“Then go get ready. Zephyr leaves in two hours.”

* * *

“And didn’t you tell Mack you can’t go with _ him?” _ Jemma whispers to her, or at least she tries to whisper, but it comes out as a stage-whisper instead, and Daisy checks that the door is closed so there is no chance someone else heard her.

“I tried, but it wasn’t easy without giving myself away,” Daisy grumbles while he folds a pair of jeans and considers if it would be weird to take a dress or two. Nothing fancy, but something she could use if they were to invite the son-of-a-Hydra-leader and his wife to dinner. 

“Are you sure Mack doesn’t know?”

“If he didn’t take his job as Director so seriously, I would think he does know and is just doing this to mess with me.”

Jemma pulls a face and Daisy looks at her sharply with two bras hanging from her hands. 

“Well, I gotta say that I wouldn’t be surprised if he did know: you are kind of obvious, and we are surrounded by spies.”

“Wait, do you think _ he  _ knows?”

“Fitz?” Jemma snorts, and Daisy’s heart falls down from her throat to its natural place on her chest. “Babe, Fitz would doubt someone is into him five years into their marriage, you know that.”

Jemma is right, and a stupid smile comes to her lips upon thinking of him, wide-eyed and waving his hands around frantically in distress. Damn. She does have it badly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, he is like that.”

* * *

She has both psyched and steeled herself to do this, and when she sees him again, a disarray of emotions betides inside of her. Fitz is smiling at her from the cargo bay of the Zephyr and Daisy can only offer him a shaky smile in return.

“Ready?” He takes her bags from her hands, and Daisy is thrown back to the moment she joined them full-time on that flying adventure that would change her life forever. The memory is enough to make her knees go weak, even without the nerves of the mission, but luckily her training has been stronger than this.

“Ready when you are.”

He nods at her, a smile on his lips, and moves to presumably accommodate her bags inside the plane. The ramp of the Zephyr closes and Daisy sighs. This is going to be a long mission, no matter how much actual time it takes.

Jemma had asked her more than once why she never dared tell him how she feels, considering how upfront she likes to be about everything else in her life, and so far Daisy hadn’t been able to truly explain it even to herself.

At first, she was lying to all of them, then there were too many secrets, then she was barely up again after being shot when The Fall happened. Then he was in a coma, and though it pained her, she couldn’t pile a confession on top of his struggles. She loved him too much, even as a friend, to do that to him. Then came her terrigenesis and he stood by her side every step of the way, without even unwavering, and even if she could have thought about telling him, it would have felt too much like taking advantage of his kindness. And then time just passed and things quieted down- as quiet as they could be for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents- and it kinda felt like she had allowed the opportunity to pass her by.

Except that the feelings never faded.

She goes to sit with May in the cockpit and not with Fitz, both because she will miss her S.O. and because she will have more than enough time to put her self-restraint through hot water during the mission. 

* * *

The mission is quite simple: they will pretend to be house-sitting next door to the son of one of the leaders of Hydra, and in the meantime surveil him and gather as much intel as possible. They don’t think his father will be bold enough to pay him a visit with Hydra in shambles as it is, but that would be a great bonus. The house-sitting excuse will allow them to leave sooner without blowing their covers if needed, or stay longer if it is paying off. It is simple and boring, and Daisy can not completely shake the feeling that maybe not Mack, but someone definitely sent them both on this mission on purpose. 

The house is cozy if impersonal, and Daisy checks everything with a spy’s eye: where the weakest points are, possible escape exits, how careful they will have to be to make sure they are the watchmen and not the ones being controlled.

Until she gets to the bedroom. 

“Um, yeah, I will sleep on the couch.” She was so paralyzed by the vision of the queen bed that she didn’t hear Fitz coming inside the room. When she turns her head towards him he looks flushed but not embarrassed, and despite May’s training, her heart picks up speed.

“For God knows how long? No way. We are pals, Fitz, we can share a bed, can’t we?”

She might have been possessed by a demon or something. A demon that likes to pretend she is cool with things she is absolutely not cool with. 

Fitz’s voice comes softer than she expected. “If you are sure, Daisy.”

“Of course I am sure.” She punches him playfully on the shoulder. In for a penny, in for a pound. “What’s the worst you could do, snore me to death?”

She leaves out a laugh that is more nervous than she intended and walks out of the room before she can bury the foot deeper in her mouth, effectively missing the way Fitz follows her out of the room with his eyes.

* * *

She has been lied to all her life by every stupid romantic comedy ever: she didn’t get ‘the best night of sleep ever’ by the sole merit of sleeping next to him.

She was too over-conscious of her limbs and every possible noise to fall asleep early, and during the night she woke up several times, easily startled by the unexpected sounds and movements of someone else on her bed.

Still, Daisy can understand the appeal: when she finally woke up with the sun, too used to early morning training sessions with May, she realized that at some point of her fitful sleep she must have flocked to his body heat and they were much closer than how she remembered falling asleep, their elbows and their toes touching.

And there is also this: this precious moment when she can watch him openly, without fear of being interrupted, the way his long, golden eyelashes flutter with his breathing, the pucker of his nose and his forehead. How peaceful and young he looks for a change. It reminds Daisy of when they met, so innocent and so unscathed- or at least they thought that of each other- and the pang in her chest is enough to throw her into motion with the desire of leaving those memories behind.

If Mack didn’t make sure this house was stocked with supplies to make pancakes, she is going to murder him, Director or not.

* * *

After breakfast and Fitz insisting on washing the dishes since she cooked, he proposes to go for a walk around the neighborhood.

“It will be a chance to check their house and the surroundings, see if there is anything else suspicious going on around the neighborhood. A bit of fresh air also won’t kill us.” 

Daisy throws a decorative pillow from the cushion at him. “It has nothing to do with Mack making you leave your fancier toys in the base and telling you to bring only the essentials and now you're dying of boredom, right?”

He laughs. “Might have to do with that a little, I am not going to lie.” The conversation lulls for a second and when he speaks again, Daisy realizes she has been holding her breath. “Do you still wanna go?”

“Fitz, we live in an underground base. I will always say yes to a walk.”

They pile up on clothes to fight off the February chill and before walking out the door Fitz offers his hand to her.

“In case someone is watching,” he explains with a faint blush on his cheeks, and he is so cute that she feels the overwhelming need to kiss him.

She doesn’t, of course, but his hand is rough and warm in hers, and somehow the sun outside shines brighter.

* * *

The first day goes by without anything remarkable happening. 

The neighborhood is quiet and since they can’t talk shop, they talk about books and shows and about their friends detached from S.H.I.E.L.D., as independent human beings, which is an interesting thought challenge in itself. They don’t see anything suspicious, which is good, but they also don’t see anything useful. 

When they get back from their walk Fitz insists she lays down for a while while he prepares lunch.

“I know you didn’t get much sleep last night,” he says, and he refuses to tell Daisy how he knows.

She was planning on just resting a bit with a book- how long has it been since she had enough time and few enough distractions to  _ actually  _ read a book? She can not remember- but the pillow smells like him and once she closes her eyes to inhale deeply, she is a goner.

Fitz wakes her up two hours later with lunch on the table and a tray of shortbread on the oven. 

“An excuse to visit our neighbors,” he explains, and Daisy knew he was smart, but he is  _ so damn smart. _

“I didn’t know you bake,” she mentions conversationally while they eat.

Fitz shrugs. 

“Mum taught me. Hadn’t had much time or inclination for it in the last few years, but it’s like riding a bicycle. Or, well, at least I hope it is.”

He scratches the back of his head nervously and Daisy laughs. They eat in comfortable silence for a while before she feels the need to say something else.

“Do you feel it too? Like you have so much free time you don’t know what to do with it, even though we are on a mission.”

“Well, it’s true that our lives have been a tad too hectic for a long time.” He makes a pause, and Daisy has to fight her instinct to swipe off a crumble from his cheek. Keeping her hands to herself is probably what is best in the long run. “I hope I am not too boring for you, Daisy.”

“What? No!” It comes out way too emphatic, and even if they are friends and she wants him to have healthy self-esteem, she feels exposed. “I couldn’t ask for anyone better to share with me what I stole from Mack.”

He leans over the table, her face completely focused on her and it’s a good thing she is not speaking out of her ass.

“Do tell.”

Daisy picks up her plate and cutlery and takes them to the sink, resisting the urge to look back at Fiz, who she knows is following her with his eyes.

“Come on, showing is better than telling.”

They play video games on the console she stole from the common room on the Playground- joke is on you, Alphonso- till the cookies are cool enough to be put in a plate, and then they put on their best friendly-neighbors faces and take them next door. 

Before ringing, Fitz places right on top of the doorbell a tiny device that will both let them know when someone rings the bell and will give them- limited- visuals of the house’s entryway. It’s crazily tiny; he had it on his thumb before they left the house, and even though she knows he is placing it, she barely notices it. Feels like a good job.

What is not good is that even though they ring several times- with a polite waiting time in between each- and knock for good measure, nobody comes to answer the door. Well, it sucks for the Hydra trust-fund baby and his wife: more shortbread for her.

* * *

The next morning Fitz wakes up before her, and Daisy tries to not obsess over if they were tangled again and if that could be the reason why he left the bed promptly. She fails.

They have breakfast together- and how rare is that luxury, two days in a row when she gets to both get breakfast and go to bed at a reasonable hour.

“This puts into perspective how crazy our usual schedule is, doesn’t it?”

Fitz places his mug of tea on the table and looks at her with inquisitive eyes.

“Do you think about leaving S.H.I.E.L.D., Daisy?”

“What? No-”

“Because I do,” he interrupts her, and Daisy swallows down, trying to get her thoughts in order. “Move back to Scotland to be near my mum, maybe consult for S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe start my own company, but mostly try to live my life a little more.”

Her mouth is dry as a desert despite the mug of coffee she just had, and when she speaks her voice comes out as a croak, “That sounds nice.” 

He nods, thoughtful. “I know the team is your family, but that doesn’t mean you have to put your life on the line forever. We will love you if you decide to leave, and we will love you if you decide to stay.”

She does not have an answer to that, so she picks up their plates and takes them to the kitchen. “Wanna go for another walk?”

* * *

Daisy makes a point of grabbing gloves this time for both of them, but Fitz still insists on holding her hand, and who is she kidding? She does want to hold his hand and now that she has an excuse, she does. 

They are skirting dangerous territory, with the real, friendly affection she knows he has for her getting mixed up with the show he is putting up for the mission. It is joy for today and pain for tomorrow, Daisy knows, but it’s hard to say no when it is what she wants and he looks at her with those big, blue eyes of his.

Their walk goes very similar to the first one, but there is a stand on one of the front yards that wasn’t there the day before. 

“A bit freaking cold for lemonade, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think it’s lemonade,” replies Fitz, craning his neck to see better. “I will check it.”

He trots to the stand and starts speaking to the two girls sitting there while Daisy follows him at a leisurely pace. Ah, not lemonade but paper flowers. Makes sense. Valentine’s Day is creeping up on them like nobody’s business.

“Which one would you like?”

“A daisy, if you have one.”

The girl nods and crouches down, and they hear the ruffle of paper. The other girl looks at Daisy and then back at Fitz.

“Is that your girlfriend?” she asks in what she probably thinks is a subtle tone. It is not. Or maybe Daisy has been a spy for too long.

Fitz looks over his shoulder at her. “She is. Isn’t she beautiful like your flowers?”

Daisy’s heart does a somersault at the way he speaks about her while the girl blushes at the second-hand compliment and nods savagely. The other girl stands up with a handful of flowers of different colors. 

Fitz takes the daisy, thanks the girls profusely and pays them- more than what a dozen of the flowers cost, if she is not wrong. He offers her the flower with a kiss to her cheek and an arm around her waist in such a natural, fluid way that Daisy can only stutter out a dry ‘thank you’.

The girls start whispering wildly the second their backs are to them, and at least _ they  _ know how to react to Fitz’s low-key charm, something Daisy clearly is not ready to do.

It’s only when they are nearing the house again that she feels ready to address it.

“You really didn't have to.”

“Well, I do want to be a supportive pretend boyfriend, unlike other people.”

“Oh, you are never letting that go, are you?”

“Never.”

They try their luck with the neighbors before lunch, and when they still get no answer, they check the feed of the camera. No one going in or out ever since they placed it. 

“It is starting to feel like chasing a ghost, isn’t it?”

Fitz shrugs. “Take it as an opportunity for us to catch up on  _ Stranger Things _ .”

* * *

Daisy is lying on the couch with a mug of tea and a book over her face when Fitz comes in with the secure phone in his hand.

“I spoke to Mack. Told him there haven’t been signs of life next door yet.”

Daisy sits up. On one hand, it will be saddening to lose this little nook of relaxation and intimacy, but on the other hand, maybe it will be for the best if they rip off the bandaid as soon as possible. 

“What did he say?”

“That they will start looking for him elsewhere, see if the intel we got was flawed. In the meantime, our orders are to wait for tomorrow evening: if we haven’t made contact by then, we should cut our losses and get back to base.” 

“Sounds reasonable.” 

There is not much more to be said, but Fitz stays in his place looking at her and passing the phone from one hand to another. Daisy raises her eyebrows, but otherwise just waits until he is ready to say his part.

After a couple of minutes, he finally says, “It will be strange to go back to the base and not spend this much time together.”

“Fitz, it has been three days. It’s not like we have been doing this for twenty years.”

He is shaking slightly and Daisy wonders if they should turn the heat up. He seemed just fine when he walked in, but maybe the bedroom is warmer for some reason? Her mug of tea is still steaming, and she picks it up, stands up, and offers it to him. They have shared recipients before so he shouldn’t be grossed out, but instead of taking the mug off her, he places his hands on top of hers. 

“Maybe we can keep doing this. On base.” Despite the shaking that still runs through his body- and that now that they are touching Daisy can also feel on hers- his voice and his eyes are steady.

“Watching  _ Stranger Things  _ and playing video games? You know it, buddy.”

“No, Daisy.” He tightens his hold on her hands, and Daisy looks down at the mug and their hands around it and then to his eyes again. He has always worn his heart in his sleeve, this man, but for the first time she can read him like an open book, and she knows what he is going to say before the words are out of his mouth. “Holding hands and sleeping together. And, um, we could do more, if you wanted to.”

He knows. She thought she was discreet but he knows, and he feels the same way. Or maybe he doesn’t know about her feelings, and he is taking a leap of faith, the one she hasn’t been brave enough to take for herself.

She drops the mug. During her retelling of this moment, Jemma will huff at her that it wasn’t really necessary, that either of them could have gotten hurt, and Daisy will insist that she can’t possibly understand it because she wasn’t there; there is no way she could do anything else but kiss him, and the mug is on the way. Fitz yelps at the crash and the liquid soaking his shoes, but the surprise takes the backseat once Daisy kisses him.

Her heart is racing so fast that she is afraid that she will quake the entire house apart, but Fitz’s hands on her cheeks ground her. He is gentle on the way he kisses her, and though Daisy would gladly amp the temperature a bit- and she is not talking about the thermostat-, there are also merits about butterfly kisses.

Their shoes squeak on the tea when she moves to grab his hips, and Fitz looks down worriedly to make sure they don’t step on any piece of ceramic. Daisy can’t stifle a laugh. 

“We are like children playing in puddles.”

Fitz doesn’t laugh back. His eyes are dark and it makes her feel dizzy with desire. When he lets go of her cheeks but grabs her hand, Daisy follows him into the bedroom. He looks like a man with a mission, and this is a mission she wants to see completed with good results if there has ever been one. 

They fall onto the bed together, still kissing and yanking at each other’s clothes, half playful, half desperate. She wants to know so much more, wants to know how he feels, exactly, and since when, and why he never said anything, and wants to say _ me too, me too, me too  _ back at him. But for now, he is unbuttoning her shirt with more ferocity than finesse, and she can’t catch her breath even while she is laying on her back and looking at the ceiling… and the window with its open curtains.

She snorts, and when Fitz raises his head with a concerned look, she just shakes her head and points at the window. 

“At least if they are home and look out the window, they won’t doubt our cover,” she jokes.

“Anything for the mission,” Fitz replies with a wicked smile, and Daisy licks her lips because she suddenly feels parched. She always thought he was handsome, sometimes in a nerdy way, sometimes in a more regular way, but now he is definitely a vision while he looks at her with lust-filled eyes from between her legs. 

She runs her hand through his hair; he leans into the touch, and she doesn’t want to bring any part of the fake set-up into this: their friendship is real, her feelings are real, and the warmth overflowing her body is also real. 

“Fitz, wait.” He looks a bit taken aback by her pressing on the brakes, and Daisy rushes to reassure him, “Could we close the curtains?”

“Of course.” He springs on his feet to fulfill her request, and Daisy lifts herself on her elbows to be able to watch him more comfortably; he is lean and pale, a bit soft around his belly but with nice, strong collarbones and shoulders, and she wants to trace every small freckle in his body.

He sees her looking and a blush goes down his chest, but he smiles and the rest of the universe disappears: she stretches her arm at him and he takes her hand as leverage to tumble down into bed together, and her paper flower is the only witness to what happens next. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
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